Lessons in Self Control
by artemis-nz
Summary: Misaki accidentally leans something new. Usami/Misaki. Lemon.


It all started – as most awkward situations with Usagi tended to do – with a careless remark. Of one thing Misaki was certain: It was not his fault.

And really, this time it honestly wasn't. Misaki had been drowsy, teetering on the verge between sleep and wakefulness, and Usagi had been lethargically stroking his shoulder. It was late. The air in Usagi's bedroom smelt of sweat and cigarettes and sex.

"… think the whole neighbourhood heard you that time, Misaki", Usagi was saying, his voice smug. Misaki didn't need to look to know that his lover's expression would be one of pure self-satisfaction – like a cat that had managed to get the cream. It didn't help that Usagi was practically purring as he said it.

The spark of mortification, that other people might have actually _heard_ him crying out those… those _things_, was enough to wake Misaki up sufficiently enough for him to protest.

"T-they did not! And… and even if they did, it's absolutely one-hundred percent your fault!"

"Oh?" How Usagi managed to sound so elegant even when he was still naked and entangled in the sheets, Misaki would never know. "How so?"

"You- you made me! I would never have said those things at all if you hadn't… and I don't exactly remember you telling me to keep it down, either!"

Usagi's eyebrow rose. "I never said I didn't like it. In fact, I adore it when you're loud, Misaki. Screaming out my name like that only makes me want to-

"No more!"

"- you. The fact that everyone in the buildings on either side can hear you has never bothered me in the slightest. That's _your_ concern, not mine", he finished calmly.

Misaki's face had flushed a brilliant red. "Fine!" he snapped, and gave a jerk on the sheets to cover himself, causing Usagi's legs to become tangled all the more. "Fine. That's it then."

"Just so you know, I'm vetoing the no-sex plan."

"That wasn't what I meant!"

"Hmm?" Usagi's smugness had given way to curiosity. "What then?"

"I just won't make any noise."

There was a sharp pause, before Usagi abruptly broke it, his body contorting in amusement.

"Don't laugh at me!"

"S-sorry… it's just…" In between his bouts of laughter, Usagi's ruffled Misaki's hair affectionately. "Misaki, I'm sorry that it bothers you, but even you have to admit, you're completely incapable of staying quiet most of the time, let alone when I-"

"Shut up!"

"It's true, you know."

"I don't care."

"My Misaki. You wouldn't last ten minutes once I prised your clothes off." Usagi assumed a thoughtful expression. "Then again, even with your clothes on, you're still always quite-"

"Try me."

"Is that an invitation?"

"Not now, you perverted jerk! Later. Tomorrow. Whenever."

"_Really._"

"Yes, really", said Misaki, impatient and more than ready to end the conversation. "Now go to sleep."

"And what do I get if I can make your lovely voice rise above the sound of a gasp, hm?"

"Whatever you want, I don't care."

Misaki, his face now buried into the pillow, missed the dangerous gleam in Usagi's eyes at those words.

"And in exchange?" Usagi asked coolly.

"Your worst nightmare. No touching me for a month."

"Done."

Misaki frowned. He had assumed Usagi, at the mere thought of being unable to molest his favourite toy, would have said no – or at least taken more time to consider it.

But it was too late for Misaki to back out gracefully now – Usagi would never have let him live it down. So he simply mumbled an affirmative, tightened his grip on the sheets, and waited for Usagi to turn out the light.

He hoped Usagi, who could have an atrociously bad memory at times, would have forgotten the whole thing by morning.

* * *

><p>"… saki."<p>

Misaki rolled over, stirring slightly in his sleep.

"Misaki…"

His fingers twitched, and he groaned. The delicious warmth than encircled him was falling away "Wha-?" It was still dark when his eyes grudgingly opened, and he squinted, trying to make out where he was. Had someone been calling his name? He lay still for a moment, waiting.

"Are you awake yet, Misaki?"

"Ugh… Usagi-san?" Blearily, Misaki coaxed his voice into working.

"Of course."

He wasn't aware enough yet to be annoyed. "What's going on?"

"I was hoping you could tell me."

"What'd you… what do you mean?"

"You were groaning in your sleep, Misaki."

"Huh…? No I wasn't…"

"And you were calling out my name."

"No I _definitely_ wasn't."

"And your hand is still on your-"

Misaki shot up, blinking rapidly and his brain kicked suddenly into work. "Wha-"

"…"

"…"

"… _Well._"

Misaki's eyes were wide with something akin to panic. "This isn't what- I can explain-", he babbled.

"Can you?" Usagi had been staring fixedly at him – now his gaze roamed downwards, where something else entirely was staring right back at both of them.

"Um- it was- I mean, it wasn't what it- I didn't-"

But the heat was still there, pooling right at the bottom of his stomach and spreading, as if to belie his words, steadily further downwards. His fingers tingled.

"Misaki." Usagi's voice was dangerously low.

"N-no- Usagi-san, I don't want-" But the way Usagi had spoken his name sent shivers down his spine, and Misaki ached to shift his hips. Somewhere below the base of his spine, something was slowly throbbing.

"… It seems to _me_", Usagi said softly, after he had ripped his gaze away, "that this would be a good time to try out that little bet of yours."

Misaki gulped. "Um… U-Usagi-san, there's really no need to-"

"Oh, I think there is."

"Usagi-san, no!-"

Usagi's tongue was invading his mouth. Misaki hadn't known the man could move so fast, especially when he had probably only just woken up himself. The author usually slept like the dead, but _this_-

If he could have made a sound, Misaki would have shrieked at the touch of Usagi's hand, large and cold and utterly in control, between his thighs. As it was, all Misaki could do was to whimper, the sound swallowed up by the force of Usagi's mouth on his.

When Usagi finally pulled away, Misaki was flushed and breathless, his eyes half-lidded and darkened with want. And Usagi knew it.

"Misaki", he whispered. "I'm going to make love to you. But before that, I'm going to touch you, here-"

Misaki bit his lip.

"-And here."

Shudders were already forming at his back, and Misaki had to resist the urge to squirm.

"And _here._"

"Usagi-san!" Misaki's eyes were wide again now, helplessly watching the unhurried movements of Usagi's hands.

"And you're not going to say a word, or utter anything louder than a groan. Because if you do… well. I could think of all _sorts_ of things to do. Couldn't you?"

Misaki's body gave a little jolt.

"You'd enjoy them too, of course, Misaki", Usagi assured him. "Don't you worry about that."

If possible, this only made Misaki's heart thud harder.

Languorously, as if he had all the time in the world, Usagi lowered himself down onto Misaki's chest, his arms keeping the weight from becoming too heavy. He carefully circled one nipple, and then the other, with his fingers, seemingly taking intent pleasure on the simple reaction of Misaki squeezing his eyes shut tight. Usagi leant down further, taking one into his mouth. He bit down, softly, and was rewarded with a low moan.

"Misaki. You don't have to keep quiet if you really can't take it."

"Shut up!"

"I intend to. But do you?"

He bent his head down again, and Misaki fought from tangling his fingers through Usagi's hair. Usagi was, for now, studiously ignoring the one part of him that was all but literally bursting for attention, choosing instead to take Misaki's silence as an invitation to nip and suck leisurely at his neck. This was unfair, it was beyond cruel, it was-

"-Enjoying yourself, Misaki?"

Misaki opened his mouth to answer, felt a cry tearing at his throat, and quickly closed it again. Now Usagi, having had his fill of the sensitive skin where Misaki's neck pulsed, moved his mouth downwards again. His fingers followed suit, dancing to follow the curve of Misaki's bellybutton and further beyond it. Then came a pause, before one of them lightly traced at the juncture of leg and jutting hip bone.

"Lift up your hips, Misaki."

Misaki shook his head wildly, no, no _way_- but Usagi simply shrugged, as though it didn't really matter to him one way or the other, before beginning a rhythmic stroking on the inside of Misaki's thighs. Up and down, up and down, never quite touching the most receptive part of Misaki's body, constantly managing to just miss it by a hairsbreadth. Misaki panted, his legs quivering. He desperately wanted to tell Usagi to stop, either stop at once or… but he _couldn't_, and Usagi was doing this on _purpose_, damn him, and the careful brush of fingers across flesh was too light, too gentle by far.

"Ahh…!"

The sound was small, and Misaki bit it off instantly, but Usagi's hand stilled. "Did you say something, Misaki?"

Misaki wanted to strangle him. Or to take Usagi's hand and move it to where he wanted himself, his dignity, whatever he had left of it, be damned. But it was difficult to sum up the energy to glare at someone when he could barely breathe, and as long as Usagi _hurried up_ already then Misaki was sure he could-

Misaki felt his back arch with the sheer force of it, his head snapping back, as Usagi opened his mouth and _lapped_ at him. The waves of pleasure threatened to overwhelm him, even as Misaki struggled to keep his mouth shut, to not make a single sound as Usagi took him into his mouth and sucked like a man starving.

In an instant, Misaki's hands were pressing desperately against his mouth, as if they might somehow be able to keep his voice, his deperate, heaving words, at bay. But another part of him wanted, more than almost anything, to give up then and there. Like he physically _needed_ the sounds lodged within his chest, urgent and guttural, to spill from his lips, like he _had_ to-

Usagi pulled back with a sigh of regret.

"And I was so enjoying that, too. Oh well. What? Don't look at me like that, it's not as if you enjoyed it _that_ much, right? After all, the Misaki I know could have never-

"I hate you", Misaki hissed.

Usagi smiled. A finger traced the line of Misaki's jaw tenderly. "I love you too."

And then all of a sudden, as though Misaki's admission had opened the floodgates, Misaki was screaming. There were a hundred hands teasing his chest, a thousand fingers running down his length, and Usagi was on him and in him and _through_ him, and there was nothing Misaki could do about any of it except to grip Usagi's shoulders as hard as he could and let it all go.

When ringing silence returned to the room, deafening them both, Misaki registered the wet heat seeping between his legs, and gave a whimper of recognition.

"…Misa…?"

He had lost, which meant Usagi had won, which meant-

"Misaki?"

His body felt suddenly heavy and uncooperative, his eyes glued shut, his breath coming in ragged sobs-

"_Misaki._"

For a brief moment, he felt disconnected from his body, hovering uncertainly in a dark space somewhere between everything, before some unnameable something wrenched him relentlessly forward.

He fell.

"Misaki, wake up!"

"Huh? What? Who's-"

"You were just dreaming. It was just a dream, Misaki, look at me."

Misaki's eyes were darting around, attempting to find something real and tangible to latch onto in the darkness. A hand gripped his arm.

"It's alright. It's okay, I'm here, I'm not going anywhere…"

A dream. A _dream_. It couldn't have been, there was no possible way a dream could be that realistic, it just _couldn't_, Usagi was playing some sort of trick on him- But Usagi was laying next to him, not on top of him, and Misaki's stomach sunk. There was no way to explain how Usagi had managed to get over there so quickly if he had just been… and when Misaki's sight adjusted to the dim, he could see that Usagi looked sleepily composed, his breath quite even. His hand, which still held Misaki's arm, was cool and dry.

"I…"

Usagi waited for Misaki to check his own breathing before he let go.

"Was it a nightmare?" he asked, concerned.

"No, I…" Misaki stopped, confused. Was Usagi mocking him? There was no laughter in the writer's voice. But then… that meant he didn't know…

As inconspicuously as he was able, Misaki ran a hand down his leg. His hand came away damp and sticky.

"Misaki? What's wrong?"

"Nothing", said Misaki, a little too quickly.

Usagi frowned. "Something's not…" he said, and then stared.

"What?" Misaki pulled the sheet up a little higher, his tone automatically defensive.

"Misaki… you weren't having a _bad_ dream at all, were you?" There was a marked lack of sleepiness in Usagi's voice now.

"I have no idea what you mean", Misaki huffed.

"I see. Then sit up."

"Why?"

"Just do it."

"No!"

"Fine then."

Usagi's hand darted from Misaki's arm to beneath the sheets.

"Hey! What the hell do you think you're-"

"…"

"I can explain!" Misaki protested weakly.

"So can I", Usagi answered, and if Usagi's tone had been smug earlier on that evening, now it was positively insufferable. "Oh Misaki, you have no idea just how exquisite you are, do you?"

"Don't touch me! I'm going back to sleep."

"Not now, you're not."

"Huh? Let go of me, you pervert-!"

"No. No, no, I can't do that, Misaki. I won the bet, you see."

Misaki gaped. "Wha- you did _not_! Molesting me in my sleep doesn't count!"

"Delectable as you may be, Misaki, even I don't go around fondling you when you're unconscious."

"Then go back to sleep already! It still doesn't count if you didn't even-"

"I didn't have to. The terms of our small wager, in your own words, was that I could do whatever I wanted to you, so long as you couldn't keep quiet when I made love to you. You didn't say anything about when or where. If I happen to touch my Misaki in a dream… here, and here, and… of course, right _here_-"

"No, d-don't-!"

"-and if you couldn't stop yourself from loudly telling me so – and I assure you, you did – then I win."

"It's not fair!"

Usagi grinned. "All's fair in love and war, Misaki. You might want to consider this something of a lesson. Never make bets you have no chance of winning."

Usagi's voice, his mouth, his hands, were wicked torture on already-heated skin. A familiar sensation was unfurling inside of him, rapidly blossoming into something that made Misaki tremble.

It was _not_, Misaki told himself firmly, anything remotely like anticipation.

"Especially", Usagi was whispering in Misaki's ear, "to a writer. Oh, Misaki, you have absolutely _no_ _idea_ how much I am going to enjoy this."

And it was all Misaki's fault.


End file.
